Emotions I Never Knew
by xseikax
Summary: Everyone deserves a present, but sometimes those gifts mean more than face value. Response to the Cheeky Monkey Secret Santa fic.


_This little one shot is for the CM Secret Santa fic. Mine was for Ventisquear, who is an absolute Zevfanatic. __If you haven't read her story Failed to Fail, you really need to do so. Not only is Air absolutely precious, but his relationship with Zevran can only be summed up in one word: "aw!"_

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><p>Ayla Surana was nervous. She clutched the beautiful set of gloves to her chest, anxiously fiddling with the embroidery. <em>Really, it's just a simple pair of gloves, nothing special at all. Just walk up and hand them to him. It shouldn't be <em>_**that**__ difficult._ Her eyes drifted to where he was sitting; polishing one of his daggers and seemingly uninterested in any of the goings on around the camp. But Ayla knew better; he was aware of each person's movement. Heck, he probably knew she was standing by her tent, like an idiot.

Inhaling deeply, she steeled her resolve and somehow managed to make her legs work, still holding the gloves tightly. He lifted his head as she approached. She couldn't help but notice how a few golden strands of his hair escaped the neat braids to brush against his tanned face. She tried to say something, but when she opened her mouth to speak, the words didn't form. Silently, feeling like a fool, she simply dropped the gloves into his lap. Or rather, she tried to. One of them fell to the ground before he could catch it. _Oh Maker, I hope that's not a sign or anything._

Zevran looked at the glove in his lap, and set his daggers aside. He reached down to pick up the other glove and slowly stood, a look of confusion on his face. "Gloves? Why are you giving me gloves?"

Ayla frowned, nervousness making her feel defensive. "If you don't want them, give them back."

She reached out to snatch them from him, but Zevran held them out of reach, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face. "Oh no, it would be rude of me to turn down a gift from such a lovely young woman."

Heat crept up her face, and she crossed her arms defiantly. "Well, look at them then. They're Dalish gloves, like the ones you said your mother had."

Zevran turned the gloves over in his hands, and his hazel eyes widened. "Maker's breath, you're right! The leather was less thick, and the embroidery was more detailed, but these are very close."

Ayla let out the breath she had been holding. "That Dalish craftsman almost didn't sell them to me. I had to work hard to convince him, so you better be grateful." _Andraste's ass, Ayla. Can't you just give a gift and be nice about it?_ But her mouth didn't seem to want to listen to what her mind was saying.

Zevran chuckled, which only irritated her more. Ever since that day when she decided to spare his life, the would-be assassin had done nothing but frustrate and embarrass her. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was well aware of her confusion, since he seemed to do everything in his power to deepen it. He went out of his way to talk to her, sometimes even going so far as to share part of his own past, and he seemed genuinely interested in her time at the Tower. He flirted and laughed with her, which flustered and secretly pleased her, but then he would speak sweetly to anyone else they encountered. It was so damn confusing.

"I am very grateful, my angry Warden." He leaned forward, and for one terrifying moment Ayla thought that he might kiss her. Blood rushed to her face, flooding her cheeks with such heat she worried that her face might be glowing; she almost jerked away from him, even as a reckless part of her hoped that he **would** kiss her.

But Zevran simply grasped her hand lightly, and brushed her fingertips with his lips, a touch so light that it sent shivers up her spine. "Thank you." He smiled, and without another word, let go of her hand and walked back to his tent, leaving Ayla dumbly staring after him.

oOo

The Denerim market was as crowded and loud as Zevran remembered it. He idly browsed through various stalls, waiting until the fierce little mage came back from the Wonders of Thedas. After that false Weylon attacked them in the Brother's house, the little mage had been all in a fluster.

Ayla was in a dark mood. "This quest for the Urn is stupid! How are we supposed to find the ashes of a dead woman in a small village that no one has ever been to?"

He quite agreed with her; surely the ashes of Andraste, a religious symbol for the entire Chantry, would not simply be waiting for them to stumble over. But Ayla had given her word to that rather shrill arlessa, and she would keep it, even if she didn't want to. Although he would never admit it to her, it was quite fun to watch the little mage grow frustrated and annoyed. He wasn't **that** eager to have his clothing set on fire. _Still, that could make for a fun evening._

The Wonders of Thedas had offered a welcome distraction for her. The moment she saw it, the little mage had charmingly clapped her hands together, happily, and fluttered into the store, trailed by Wynne and Leliana. He knew Ayla would exit with her arms full of some new magical items, or, Maker forbid, new books that she would drag all across the country. Zevran laughed to himself. What was it about the little mage and her books? The rest of them carried supplies, fresh clothing, food and water in their packs, items that were actually useful for travel. But not Ayla. All she ever carried were books, and lyrium potions.

"Excuse me, ser!" A young woman called out to Zevran, waving him over to her wares. "Are you shopping for someone, ser? We have the finest jewelry in Denerim, the perfect gift for a lovely lady."

Zevran shrugged. He didn't have as much interest in the Wonders of Thedas as the little mage, and had thought perhaps to purchase a new dagger, while he waited, but nothing at the market was as fine as what he already carried. He glanced at the woman's jewelry and chuckled. They certainly _weren't_ the finest in Denerim, but he had to admit that were of decent quality.

He was about to turn away, when a slim silver necklace, a simple chain with a little star at the end, caught his eyes. Before he knew what he was doing, he picked up the necklace and handed a few coins to the young woman. He walked away, wondering if he would really give the necklace to the little mage. It would look beautiful around her neck, and would be an appropriate way to thank her for the gloves, the gloves he would always wear.

But, more than that, perhaps it would be the gesture to tell her of his growing fondness for her. It had been four months since she spared his life, four months of traveling with the her, watching her constantly. What he felt was wrong. A Crow could not allow tender feelings to make him weak, but he felt it nonetheless. However, if he gave her the necklace, it would cement the feelings that he tried to deny.

Still in a quandary, Zevran tucked the necklace into his pocket and went to wait for Ayla.

oOo

Ayla was practically beside herself with excitement. She had found so many amazing new books at the Wonders of the Thedas, and had had enough money to purchase four of them. She sat near her tent with the first one open in her lap; it contained some amazingly detailed explanations on spells she'd never even heard of. First thing in the morning she'd have to try them; she almost couldn't wait!

Footsteps approached her, and she reluctantly raised her eyes from the book to see Zevran standing next to her. "Can I help you?" She didn't really want to talk to anyone right now, least of all the confusing assassin; she wanted to finish this new book before she went to sleep. But Zevran didn't say anything; he had an unusual solemn look on his face as he sat down next to her. "Is everything alright?"

He forced a smile. "Oh yes, quite alright." He reached into his pocket and fumbled around with something. "I...found something in the market today."

When he grew quiet, Ayla tilted her head. "And?"

"And...I wanted to give it to you." Without looking at her, he pulled something silver out of his pocket and put it in her hand, curling her fingers over it.

Ayla was so curious and confused that she forgot all about the book; she opened her hand to see a beautiful silver necklace. Her eyes widened, and she traced the little star with her finger. It was one of the most gorgeous things she'd ever seen. She swallowed nervously. "W...why did you buy this for me?"

Zevran stared at the fire. "I...wanted to thank you for the gloves, and when I saw the star I...thought of you..."

Ayla was struck speechless. She didn't know what to say, so she nervously slipped the necklace over her head and touched the star where it nestled against her heart. "Thank you, Zevran."

Zevran turned to her, looking as if he had come to a decision. Slowly, afraid she would run if he moved too fast, he gently placed a hand on the side of her face. His eyes said something Ayla couldn't figure out. Her heart pounded in her chest, her cheeks were on fire. When she didn't pull away, Zevran smiled, encouraged.

His kiss, when it came, was gentle and light, and sweeter than anything she could have imagined.


End file.
